Gilrond's Children II: Steadfast of the West
by Bess the Bard
Summary: Elrohir and others are torn between oath, fate and prophesy over the destiny of a mysterious child. A continuation of the story begun in Gilrond's Children.
1. Default Chapter

This is a continuation of the story begun in Gilrond's Children, also posted at fanfiction.net.  
  
Disclaimer: I get no profit from Professor Tolkien's characters, I just like to take them out to play for awhile.  
  
Chapter 1: Dunthalion  
  
The little one was crying again. Elrohir listened for a moment, then wearily tossed back the bed coverings and put his bare feet on the wooden floor. After three months he had become attuned to every sound made by this tiny bundle of needs and demands. He jerked awake several times a night just to go check and make sure nothing was amiss with the lad. He felt as if he were on constant guard duty, with no relief in sight.  
  
As he walked into the adjoining chamber to discover what the little one needed now, he met Calmae in her night shift and robe answering the cry from her room nearby.  
  
"It is all right, Calmae. I will take care of him this time. You go back to sleep." Elrohir said kindly.  
  
"It is no trouble, my lord." Calmae said, starting into the room. "Sounds like he needs changing and that is no job for you."  
  
Sighing inwardly, Elrohir stepped in front of the determined nurse. "Calmae, I think I have shown you that I can care for Dunthalion without dropping him on his head or otherwise damaging him."  
  
He looked steadily at her. "I value your help and advice. But I am his father and however much you love him, you are not his mother." He saw with regret how the older woman went white with pain in the dim room, but he had waited almost too long to set this boundary. "Go to bed, please. We will talk more in the morning. I will take care of the baby."  
  
With that he turned and went to pick up the very soggy and very unhappy son of Eloessa, his beloved.  
  
********  
  
In the first days after Eloessa's death, Elrohir wandered about in a fog. He rarely let the baby out of his sight, but allowed Calmae and assorted maids under her direction to handle the actual day to day care of the infant. The routine was foreign to his experience and he lacked the desire in those first days to learn more. Galadriel watched him with concern but in his black grief, he was unaware of her observation.  
  
Eloessa's burial in a small grove of golden mallorns overlooking the Anduin and the consecration of her soul to the Halls of Mandos had passed almost without his notice, though he had been present for the ceremony. Within him burned a constant rage against the fate that tore from him the only woman he had ever loved. But when he held his son in his arms, the dark tide of despair receded, for a time.  
  
The laments composed for Eloessa were sung for the requisite seven nights under the stars. Elrohir stood with the group of chanting Elves, who included Galadriel and Celeborn. Eloessa was well loved and her friends were many. He did not sing, however, but stood in the cold starlight each night with Eloessa's son in his arms, as if he were waiting for something, absently rocking and caressing the baby. Calmae protested that the frosty air was not good for the newborn but Galadriel quietly made sure the infant was well wrapped and did not interfere.  
  
But on the seventh night he seemed tense and restless. The last lament faded away and the mourners poised to disperse. Suddenly, Elrohir whispered to the child in his arms, then pointed up at the velvet darkness above Lothlorien. The gathered Elves looked to see where he gestured. It was the season when the Remmirath, the Netted Stars, were in the north.  
  
But tonight, one seemed to be shining brighter than the others. Those standing near Elrohir heard his soft message to Dunthalion. "Your mother will look upon you all the days of your life, little one. You will know it when you see the brightest star in the Remmirath, shining down on you." Elrohir kissed Dunthalion who looked back at him with eyes both innocent and all-knowing. "Now it is time to take our rest, for tomorrow we start our life together as a family."  
  
Without acknowledging the sympathetic but puzzled Elves around him, he turned and walked in the direction of the talan formerly occupied by Eloessa. Calmae, casting doubtful glances at the sky, followed in his wake. Celeborn watched his grandson for several moments, then murmured softly to Galadriel. Together they walked slowly from the clearing, disappearing at last into the darkness. 


	2. News From Home

Gilrond's Children: Steadfast of the West  
  
Chapter 2—News from Home  
  
Elrohir sat on a simple flet high in the branches of a mallorn some distance from Calas Galadhron. Dunthalion lay on the platform under his foster father's watchful eye, waving his pudgy hands and feet in the air, happy to be free of his wrappings. Dappled summer sunlight filtered through golden leaves, throwing dancing bits of light across Dunthalion's face and dark hair. The boy smiled then laughed in delight at this miracle.  
  
Elrohir's heart caught at the smile, so like Eloessa's. But the laughter was wild and free and wholly the boy's own. Elrohir grinned to hear it. He plucked a leaf and waved it just out of reach of his son. Dunthalion surprised his father by accurately seizing the leaf, tugging at it with ferocious concentration.  
  
"How strong you are!" Elrohir exclaimed with pride. "You will wield your sword with great power, my little warrior."  
  
Elrohir sniffed. An unpleasant odor emanated from the little warrior, who continued to giggle to himself. Elrohir shook his head, checking the boy's garments and grimacing. "Your grip is not the only thing strong about you."  
  
Elrohir retrieved the needed items from the boy's large pack. Even a brief outing like this one seemed to require enough supplies to equip a three-man patrol for days. But, experienced soldier that he was, he had pared the items down to the barest necessities.  
  
Elrohir stripped Dunthalion of the soiled garments with efficiency, and cleaned him off. "What has Calmae been feeding you?" he queried in a conversational tone. Dunthalion, a good-natured child, merely squirmed and made a sound something like "Murrp", as the damp cloth pursued all the boy's nooks and crannies.  
  
Reaching for the clean clothes he stiffened when he heard sounds below the flet. Someone was climbing up.  
  
Any resident of Lorien would have called up to announce their coming, but there had been no cry. Elrohir swiftly bundled Dunthalion into the sling across his chest that the baby had occupied during the climb up the tree. He cursed himself for coming out with only a long knife for protection. He drew it in silence, poised near the opening in the platform with lethal intensity.  
  
A head covered in thick dark hair appeared above the floor of the flet. Elrohir held his knife ready but did not immediately strike. It appeared to be not an Orc, but an Elf. The Elf placed his hands on the platform, pulling himself up gracefully to stand in front of Elrohir.  
  
The Elf gingerly pushed the knife aside with his finger. "Is that any way to greet your brother?"  
  
"Elladan! Well met, indeed." Elrohir sheathed his knife and seized his twin in a swift embrace, mindful of the baby between them. "When did you arrive? What news from Rivendell?"  
  
Elladan, alike in appearance to his brother save that his eyes were brown rather than gray, returned the heartfelt hug. For many decades, the twins rarely spent time apart, enduring long years in the wilderness hunting orcs to avenge their mother and to keep Imladris safe. Until last year when Eloessa had come to Rivendell, the brothers had not been separated in over a century.  
  
Elladan emerged from the embrace but kept his hands on his brother's shoulders, looking searchingly into the eyes of his twin. Elrohir gazed back steadily, not trying to hide his grief or the changes that caring for Dunthalion had wrought in him. Changes that Elladan was not yet sure he understood.  
  
Elladan drew back, his expression solemn. "Glorfindel delivered your messages to Father. We were all grieved to hear of Eloessa's death. Arwen composed the laments herself and all Rivendell gathered to mourn. They are calling Eloessa the Broideress of the Golden Wood. She will be long remembered in Imladris."  
  
Elladan squeezed his brother's shoulder in comfort and then released him. "I grieve with you, my brother. Though I knew not the cause until Glorfindel returned, I felt your anguish these many months. Though your burden of despair seemed a bit lessened of late." He looked at the baby snuggled in his sling across Elrohir's chest. "I would venture that this is the reason?"  
  
Elrohir allowed his pain at the mention of Eloessa to pass for now. "Yes. This is your new nephew. He is a fine lad who will no doubt take after me and be a great leader and warrior." Elrohir grinned at his brother. "And no stories of how we drove our parents to distraction. My son will be a model of intelligence and decorum, unlike his uncle."  
  
Elladan snorted. He peered into the little boy's light blue eyes, startled to find them the exact shade of the mother's. "Pay no attention to this pompous clod, my boy. When you are ready to learn to be a real warrior, come see me." He looked up at his brother inquiringly. "You have not told me his name."  
  
Elrohir looked surprised then realized, "That's right, Glorfindel left so soon after...." Elrohir paused a moment, remembering the chaos and despair of that time. He continued in a quiet tone. "His mother named him Dunthalion."  
  
"Steadfast of the West," murmured Elladan softly, giving the boy his knuckle to gnaw on. "Trying to dispel any doubt as to his allegiance, I wonder?"  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?" said Elrohir sharply. "The name is a fitting one, but my son does not have to prove anything about who he will serve. He is an innocent child!" He looked at his brother with a coldness that had never before passed between them. "I will personally answer any aspersions cast on Dunthalion, for it touches not only his honor but my own. That applies even to you, Elladan."  
  
Elladan did not respond, but wondered to himself, "And will that apply even to our own father?" Elladan uneasily remembered the messages he carried from Elrond to Lord Celeborn regarding this infant whose fate now loomed so large in their lives.  
  
He sighed and said aloud. "I meant no offense, Elrohir. I'm sure Eloessa's son will take after her in valor and spirit." He watched carefully, keeping his expression neutral until he saw his brother relax. "Although I think Dunthalion's honor may have just stained your shirt."  
  
Elrohir looked down and groaned at the large wet spot spreading across his front. From his sling, Dunthalion smiled innocently while Elladan laughed aloud.  
  
********  
  
Dunthalion, changed and dry once more, slept in his father's arms. The brothers walked back to the city, at ease with one another as if no hard words had been spoken.  
  
As they neared the gate, horns sounded overhead. Elladan looked questioningly at his brother, who shrugged. The horns blared again, sounding the call for warriors returning from a long absence. Elrohir stepped aside for a moment and collared a member of the city guard, hurrying past them. The guard delivered his news in a low voice then darted away. The brothers exchanged troubled looks, knowing now for whom the horns sounded.  
  
The sons of Gilrond had returned. 


	3. Brothers and Other Strangers

Brothers and Other Strangers  
  
Brothers and Other Strangers  
Chapter Three  
  
"Tomorrow, we should reach the southern border of Lorien," The small campfire cast strange shadows on the proud face of Celemedril as he spoke, feeding small bits of kindling to the flames.  
  
"I know the way home." Eomeril spoke briefly but bitterness flowed through his words like the undercurrent of a dangerous sea. He sat back from the fire, completely hidden in shadow.  
  
"Ah, it deigns to speak. I thought perhaps I'd gone deaf, the silence lasted for so long. At least two weeks, three days and some four hours, by my reckoning. But who is counting?" Celemedril said without rancor. His brother huffed a bit but made no response.  
  
Now that he had the fire going, he set about making their evening meal. They had few supplies left near the end of their journey, but Celemedril supplemented their dwindling stores with two fish caught earlier in the day from the Great River. The food preparation, provisioning and, indeed, any activity that required a decision or initiative had fallen to him since leaving the accursed hills of Dunland so many weeks ago.  
  
Silence reigned between the brothers again while the fish, flavored with precious salt and a few collected wild herbs, sizzled in the pan, sending whiffs of tantalizing aroma wafting into the sultry summer dark. Soon Celemedril deemed the fish ready and speared them onto eating platters.  
  
"Here, eat." Celemedril handed a dish to his brother, careful to speak before he touched him. "You grow thin on the return journey." Eomeril made no move to take the food. Celemedril tried again. "You will bring all of Mistress Serwen's skilled leechcraft to naught if you continue on in this fashion."  
  
Eomeril finally took the dish but set it aside without touching it. Celemedril shook his head and sat down to eat his own dinner. "I do not know if any of my messages made it to Lorien or if they have given us up for lost," he said. "I pray that at least one came, so that Eloessa had no more grief to bear than absolutely necessary."  
  
Eomeril's head turned toward Celemedril at the mention of his sister, a quick wave of emotion, swiftly stilled, in his face. Yet he said nothing.  
  
The moon rose to his zenith and the hour grew late. Celemedril lay down; slipping in to the alert dream-state that in Elves passed for sleeping. He watched his brother carefully, as he had each night since he found him; in peril and pain and punishment, he had watched.  
  
Long after the moon set, Eomeril remained unmoving. His face, as usual, turned away from the light of the fire. Celemedril watched, and wondered what his brother searched for in the sightless dark.  
  
********  
  
The summons from Lord Celeborn came as Elrohir and Elladan finished breakfast. Dunthalion joined them at table, and Elrohir kept a close eye on his son. Eating porridge with a spoon was a new skill and one not entirely mastered. Elladan discreetly moved his chair a little further away from the danger zone.  
  
Calmae sourly announced the messenger, who followed her into the room. Haldir surveyed the scene with his customary hauteur. Taken to task by Lady Galadriel for provoking a confrontation on the night of Eloessa's death, then commanded along with Elrohir to observe an honorable truce, relations remained cool between the two men. Knowing no overt hostility would be permitted, their grievances now played out in words of polite venom.  
  
"I'm sorry to pull you away from a scene of such domestic bliss, Lord Elrohir, but my Lord Celeborn requires your presence in his hall." Haldir bowed elegantly but his eyes remained on Elrohir who pointedly ignored his visitor and tempted his son with a bit of bread.  
  
"Now, my lord." Haldir intoned.  
  
"What do you suppose Grandfather could want, Elladan?" Elrohir asked, not above emphasizing his relationship with Celeborn to maintain an upper hand with Haldir. Elladan merely shook his head, refusing to be drawn into this fray.  
  
Elrohir imagined he could actually hear Haldir grind his teeth, and suppressed a smile. "I bring a letter from Lord Celeborn," Haldir said stiffly. Elrohir took a drink from his goblet, looking over its rim directly at Haldir for the first time. He extended his hand for the letter and waited. Haldir reluctantly withdrew the message from his tunic and gave it to Elrohir.  
  
Though he did not know the content, Haldir watched as Elrohir read the letter and frowned deeply. Satisfied with Elrohir's discomfiture, Haldir's attention moved on. It was caught and held by the gaze of the child Dunthalion.  
  
Haldir found children in general a puzzle, but this one seemed to be the center of a deep mystery indeed. Rumors flew around Lothlorien regarding the child's origin and parentage, each one wilder than the last. Haldir did not believe a tithe of them. Besides he would never gossip about Eloessa, a lady he had much admired.  
  
Haldir did not understand why the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood did not put a stop to tales by revealing the truth, whatever it was. He wondered if they actually preferred the speculation to continue, though this seemed unlikely. Like a good soldier, he kept his doubts to himself. But his gaze rested speculatively on Dunthalion.  
  
The boy looked back with a serious expression in his light blue eyes. Very like the mother's, Haldir remembered. Haldir found himself so caught by the innocent wisdom reflected in them he at first failed to notice what the boy was doing.  
  
Free for the moment of the attention of his father and uncle, both now reading Lord Celeborn's letter, Dunthalion filled two hands with porridge from the bowl in front of him.  
  
Though credited by many with quick and deadly reflexes, Haldir proved too slow to prevent what happened next. Dunthalion lobbed handfuls of porridge at Elrohir who looked up just in time to receive gobbets of mush in his face. A globule dropped onto the pristine parchment of Lord Celeborn's letter.  
  
"Adar, Adar!" Dunthalion cried in delight, scooping up more ammunition. The eyes of Haldir and Elladan met over the boy's head, one gaze appalled and the other amused. Haldir moved toward Dunthalion as if to take matters in his own hands.  
  
Elladan spoke quickly. "I wouldn't do that..." He got no further as Dunthalion scored a second volley with commendable accuracy. Haldir stopped dead, porridge dripping off his hair and clothing.  
  
Haldir turned with dignity to Elrohir, who was wiping porridge and tears of laughter from his face. "Have you nothing to say about this child's behavior, my lord?"  
  
"Oh, yes," gasped Elrohir. "This is a great day. First, because he said his first word just now. And second," Elrohir struggled to contain his mirth. "Because he has wonderful aim!"  
  
Elladan, meanwhile, had disarmed the dangerous character and moved his weapon out of reach. Holding Dunthalion, he kept an eye on the outraged Haldir. One critical word too many and the parties might engage in open war. Haldir stared icily at the brothers for several moments. Then, something unexpected happened.  
  
Haldir smiled. He grinned. He laughed out loud. Elrohir and Elladan looked at each other worriedly. Elladan hugged Dunthalion closer to him.  
  
The March-warden of Lorien, still chuckling, took a cloth from the table and wiped himself off. "I shall tell Lord Celeborn that you will wait upon him presently. At least, I will as soon as I make myself presentable enough to attend my liege lord."  
  
Haldir came and ruffled Dunthalion's dark locks. "I could use warriors as quick as you in my unit, little one." Haldir turned to Elrohir, smiling. "My lord, I have been bested in combat and know when to admit defeat." He held out his hand. "I cry peace Elrohir."  
  
Elrohir grasped Haldir's hand strongly. "Then there is peace between us, Master Haldir." Haldir bowed deeply and left the room.  
  
Elladan sighed in relief. "That went better than I hoped. I will have Calmae clean the boy so we can go to Grandfather without further delay." He called the nursemaid to come retrieve Dunthalion.  
  
Calmae entered and made to carry her charge away. "You may put Dunthalion down for a nap after his bath, Calmae," Elrohir said suddenly. Calmae curtsied and hurried off, delighted to have the child to herself for a time.  
  
Elladan stared at his twin. "You mean not to take him with us? Lord Celeborn specifically requested you to bring Dunthalion to meet Eloessa's brothers."  
  
"I say where my son goes and when. I think it best that he remain here for the time being." Elrohir said as he left to change his clothes. "The interview with her brothers will be difficult enough without Dunthalion there."  
  
Elladan put his hand on Elrohir's arm to stop him. "Do not set yourself against Celeborn in this. You will need his goodwill."  
  
"What do you mean? What did Father say about Dunthalion?" Elrohir stared fixedly at Elladan's hand until it was removed. "How much have you hidden from me, brother?" he accused softly.  
  
Elladan stepped back, his face closed. "Make yourself ready. I will meet you outside." He strode past his twin. "We have kept Lord Celeborn waiting long enough."  
  
*********  
  
Orophin, the guard at the gates of Caras Galadhron, watched the sons of Gilrond pass quietly through. The elder, Celemedril, rode in first, looking neither right nor left. The guard knew Celemedril of old, having patrolled the southern borders with him many times, and saw that his former captain was thin, his face more grave now than proud. Eomeril, the younger brother, rode in last, shoulders bent as if in great weariness and his hood pulled far down over his face, despite the fine summer day.  
  
Orophin turned his own mount to escort the pair to Lord Celeborn's talan. Orders from Lord Celeborn forbade anyone to mention the death of Eloessa or the child to the brothers. Orophin saw the wisdom in this, for such sad news should come from their foster parents, not from others. But he needn't have worried about answering questions for the brothers were silent, speaking not even to each other.  
  
At last they reached the great ladder stair that led up round the towering mallorn tree to Celeborn's hall. Celemedril dismounted first. He went to the head of Eomeril's horse. The guard noticed that Celemedril murmured softly and held the horse's head while Eomeril dismounted with less grace than an elf usually displayed. Again Celemedril spoke words to his brother too low for Orophin to understand. Eomeril straightened and walked by Celemedril's side to the base of the stair.  
  
Once the correct passwords were given and the horn call sounded from above, the party started forward. Eomeril passed by the guard, who caught a glimpse of Eomeril's face beneath the hooded cloak. The guard nearly missed a step in shock. Not only did the vision of a scarred face burn now in Orophin's memory, but something far more grievous.  
  
Eomeril, the laughing, singing wanderer, was blind. 


	4. In the Hall of Lord Celeborn

In the Hall of Lord Celeborn  
Chapter Four  
  
Celemedril led the way into Celeborn's hall. Eomeril, face hidden, followed closely. But only Galadriel awaited them. She stood to welcome her foster sons home.  
  
Celemedril paused for a moment as if preparing himself, then strode forward to kneel before his lady.  
  
"My Lady, I promised to find my brother and bring him home. This I have done." Celemedril's head remained bowed as he continued. "Yet I failed to accomplish your will. In my pride and anger I drove Eomeril to leave, consumed with vengeance and shame. I followed but I found him too late. He has paid a terrible price for my sins against him. Even Eloessa will not forgive me this."  
  
His last words echoed in the silence of the hall. "I surrender myself to your justice, Lady. To whatever fate thou wilt."  
  
"A noble speech, my brother. But you take too much upon yourself." Eomeril's voice, cold as a wind off the frozen mountain, broke the uneasy quiet after Celemedril spoke.  
  
"Whatever debt existed between us was canceled when you found me in the dungeons of Dalkur. Be assured that never again will you be called upon to take responsibility for me. Soon you will be relieved of my company for good."  
  
Celemedril might have spoken but Galadriel stopped him with a look. "Peace! There will be no talk of judgement here, in the hour of your homecoming." She held her hand out to her foster son. "Come to me, Eomeril. Your spirit cries out in trouble."  
  
Eomeril, with some hesitation, took a few steps in the direction of her voice. Galadriel moved toward him at the same time and he stumbled when he sensed how close she was. She reached to steady him, shocked at his clumsiness, for his grace in the dance had been legend amongst the maidens. Eomeril straightened at her touch, his head turned away.  
  
But this Galadriel would not permit, slowly pushing the hood back from his face. A quick intake of breath was the only sound she made. Gently, gently, she traced Eomeril's ruined features. He jerked at first, then stilled. Her fingers trembled as she touched the burned, puckered flesh where his left eye once had been. A terrible slash scored his cheek upward to his right eye, which was clouded and sightless.  
  
"Oh, Eomeril." Galadriel smoothed her hand over his scarred face. "How you suffered. And not in this only...." Her voice trailed off, then strengthened. "I will send our best healers to you as soon as you are settled." Though she feared there was little that could be done.  
  
"Now, my dears, I fear I must add to your grief." Galadriel drew Eomeril with her by the hand to stand near his brother. Even after millenia of war and betrayal she knew of no easy way to deliver news such as this. She paused a moment, then said gently, "Eloessa died late last winter, giving birth to her son."  
  
A shocked silence greeted her pronouncement. Celemedril turned pale, crying out. "No! This cannot be...it is a mistake, a lie! What happened?"  
  
Galadriel did not take offense at the insult, knowing it rose out of the first anger of a raw grief. "It is no mistake. There was an accident and Eloessa was badly injured. We tried everything we could but she put forth all her strength to deliver the baby."  
  
"I loved her as my own." Galadriel whispered, almost to herself. "And I could not save her."  
  
Celemedril turned away, but she knew he wept. Eomeril remained silent, his ravaged face grim and hard, as if carved in stone.  
  
Galadriel believed there was little she could do for the brothers. "I will leave you alone now. But only for a short while. There are decisions to be made, and soon." She turned to go, wondering what strength remained to the brothers for what must happen next.  
  
Then she saw Eomeril reach out, grope blindly for his brother's shoulder and grip it in comfort. Celemedril reached up to grasp his brother's hand and hold it tightly.  
  
Galadriel left the room silently. Perhaps there was still hope for them.  
  
Elladan walked beside Elrohir through the city in answer to their grandfather's summons. They were silent; each preoccupied with thoughts of the interview to come.  
  
Elladan did not look forward to Lord Celeborn's displeasure at Elrohir's stubborness. Celeborn took a dim view of those who willfully disobeyed him. And Elrohir would need his grandfather's good will in the confrontation to come.  
  
A confrontation that, by the instruction of their father, Elladan was about to set in motion.  
  
Haldir awaited the twins at the top of the talan stair. Rather than taking them to the main hall, he conducted them to an alcove formed by huge intertwined branches of the mallorn tree.  
  
Elrohir wondered at this. When his grandfather had a point to make, the sublime majesty of his reception chamber usually provided an excellent backdrop. But Celeborn was canny enough to keep a supplicant off balance by doing the unexpected. Elrohir knew he would have to step warily.  
  
Lord Celeborn sipped from a carved wooden goblet as the party entered. He waved them forward. "Elladan. Elrohir." He set the cup on a nearby table. "How kind of you to make the time to join me. Haldir assures me I should be grateful that you took the opportunity to tidy up before making an appearance."  
  
Elrohir glanced at Haldir who was trying his best to appear invisible. No help there, he thought. He realized his grandfather expected a response. "The delay was advisable, my lord."  
  
Celeborn frowned at Elrohir. "Where is the boy? You were instructed to bring him with you."  
  
Elrohir chose his words with care. "Eloessa's brothers will be dealing with their grief for a time. Emotions may run high. Dunthalion does not need to be exposed to that. His uncles shall meet him later."  
  
"The child resides in Lorien and is subject to my will," said Celeborn evenly. "As are you while you stay here, Elrohir."  
  
"The child has a name, Grandfather. It is Dunthalion and he is my son." Elrohir said, straightening and meeting Celeborn's gaze. "I am the authority on what is best for him. There is no good reason for him to be here."  
  
Celeborn considered his grandson a moment, then gestured to Haldir. The March-Warden stepped forward and bent his head to receive Celeborn's low- voiced instructions. Elrohir watched but could see no change in Haldir's closed expression. Haldir bowed and left the alcove without a word.  
  
"We will leave that aside for now." Celeborn waved his hand as if to dismiss the momentary clash of wills. "Early this morning, Galadriel informed Eloessa's brothers of her passing. I do not wish to intrude on their grief, but there is much that needs to be discussed. Come." The Lord of Lothlorien left the alcove, not looking to see if his grandsons accompanied him.  
  
Glancing ruefully at each other, they followed Lord Celeborn into his hall.  
  
The Counsel of Lord Elrond  
  
Eloessa's brothers appeared to have been alerted to the coming of Celeborn. Celemedril stood at attention, his face pale but composed. Eomeril had put his hood back up.  
  
Celeborn approached his foster sons with measured tread. He stopped only inches away. No one spoke for several moments.  
  
Then Celeborn said simply, "Eomeril," and waited.  
  
After a long moment Eomeril swept the hood back from his face, throwing his head up in defiance. Celemedril drew near to his brother in silent support.  
  
Eomeril sensed his foster father's gaze upon him but could not see the rage, cold as the grinding ice of the north, which glittered in the eyes of his lord.  
  
"The one who did this," Celeborn's voice hardened. "He is dead?"  
  
"By my own hand," Celemedril spoke for the first time. Eomeril made a small movement as if in remembered pain, then stilled.  
  
"Good." Celeborn said. He turned and walked to his carved wooden chair.  
  
"The one who gave the order still lives," Celemedril said. "But he will not escape my reckoning in the end."  
  
"It may be fated that he will meet his doom at your hands. But not today," Celeborn admonished as he sat. "The blessing of the Valar has brought you safe home. Yes, I say safe," he acknowledged Eomeril's scars with a look. "For while there is breath still in the body, there is a life to be lived with honor and courage. You both are needed here, now and for some time to come."  
  
Celeborn surveyed the four Elves in front of him. Even in the twilight of the Elves in Middle Earth, each of them was worth many dozens of the knights of Men, in strength, skill and valor. In his grandsons, ran the blood of the highest Eldar in Middle Earth and the noblest Houses of Men. Celeborn had long known their fortunes were intertwined with the very fate of Middle Earth.  
  
His fosterlings, sons of one born in the noontide of Valinor itself, were mighty indeed. But only now were the forces that drove their destinies beginning to coalesce about them. The sons of Gilrond would need an anchor in the coming storm.  
  
Celeborn might be able to provide it, but the cost would be high-for them all.  
  
For some time, Celeborn sat unmoving, observing the songbirds dive and soar outside his window. His four waiting listeners looked at each other and shifted their feet, suddenly feeling much younger than they were.  
  
Still watching the aerial display amongst the leaves of Lorien, Celeborn mused, "I remember when the four of you were boys and well nigh inseparable, especially before your sisters were born."  
  
"You were the object of every maiden's pursuit," Celeborn said dryly. "The delight of your weapons masters and the bane of the gate warden's existence."  
  
Memories whispered in the spaces between Celeborn's words. In the sun dappled hall, shades of the children they had once been called out in laughter to one another.  
  
"When my captain brought you all before me to explain your latest escapade, I knew already the part that each of you would have played." Now the Lord of Lothlorien turned to face his audience, singling each one out as he spoke. "The original idea likely formed in Elladan's fertile mind. Celemedril was the strategist. Elrohir and Eomeril carried out the deed, usually with flawless precision."  
  
Elladan shared a rueful look with his brother, whose slightly hunched posture recalled many of those blistering interviews with their grandfather.  
  
"I remind you now of your friendship, your honor, and the bond you once shared." Celeborn's voice turned solemn. "For now is the time when it and you will be tested."  
  
He looked at them all. "The status of Eloessa's son must be discussed." Celeborn's words were like a splash of cold water.  
  
"I don't understand," Celemedril protested. "Eomeril and I are his uncles. His only family. What is there to discuss?"  
  
Elrohir spoke for the first time. "Much has happened since last we met." Celemedril turned a cold stare on him, but Elrohir continued. "I heard of the attack in the mountains and came to Lothlorien to find out what happened."  
  
"When I arrived, Eloessa had recovered but things ," Elrohir shared an oblique look with Celeborn. "Still, I knew that I loved her and wanted to spend our lives together. To my eternal grief, I did not find Eloessa until after her accident. We declared our love for one another and for a short time it appeared she would overcome her injuries. I agreed to accept her child as my own."  
  
"In the end, delivering the baby took all her strength. She died in my arms. Her body spent, she passed to the Halls of Mandos, where, the Valar willing, we will meet again in the Undying Lands." Elrohir spoke with little expression, but Elladan could feel the suppressed grief and tension coursing in his brother's body. He wondered how much longer it could be contained.  
  
Celemedril shook his head in confusion at this abbreviated version of events, but it was Eomeril that spoke.  
  
"He is not telling the truth. Or at least not all he knows." Eomeril said. "For every thing he told there are three left unsaid."  
  
Stung by the accusation, Elrohir responded. "To unleash a flood on the ill prepared would be no favor. You will know what is needful but not all at once. Especially not in the first flush of your grief, when minds are clouded and words are hot."  
  
Eomeril faced his old friend squarely. Elrohir steeled himself not to look away. He sensed that Eomeril would know if he did. Slowly, Eomeril approached. The Elf might be blind but Elrohir felt a vague threat nonetheless.  
  
"Did you love Eloessa in Rivendell when you refused her suit?" Eomeril asked.  
  
Elrohir blanched. He had not expected this. "Yes," he answered.  
  
Eomeril came closer. "Did you love Eloessa when you let her leave Rivendell, sending her into a nightmare of torment and death?" He received no immediate response. "Did you love her then?" he demanded.  
  
"Yes. I loved her." Elrohir said at last.  
  
Another step nearer. "And when you held her, dying, in your arms." Eomeril said in a soft voice. "Tell me, friend. Did you love my sister then?"  
  
"Yes." Elrohir breathed the word, eyes wide and blind with pain.  
  
"You did not love her enough."  
  
Elrohir heard the words but he never saw the fist aimed at him.  
  
Eomeril's powerful blow knocked Elrohir to the floor. "It was not enough." Eomeril said again, standing over the fallen Elf.  
  
Celemedril held his brother back, but Eomeril shook him off. "I am finished."  
  
Elladan ran to his twin, who was already beginning to revive. Helping his brother sit up, he cried out. "Is this what your suffering taught you? To be cruel? To spread your pain to others like a disease?"  
  
Elrohir struggled to his feet, and stood, swaying a little. Elladan supported him, saying, "If he had not found Eloessa in time, if he had not risked his life and his very soul to save her, you would not even have a nephew to remember her by. Her essence would be gone from Middle Earth in truth."  
  
Elrohir, the left side of his face already beginning to bruise, said thickly. "I do not seek their gratitude, Elladan. We have all lost more than can ever be regained. At least I have Eloessa's son." Elladan shot his brother a look, but he did not notice.  
  
Celemedril, growing angry in his turn, challenged the sons of Elrond. "And where is my nephew? I have not even heard you speak his name."  
  
A swelling rage fueled by fresh grief swallowed his reason. "Do you seek to hide him from us, his rightful guardians? Or has he, too, met with an accident?"  
  
Elrohir straightened and cried out. "The boy is alive and well in my keeping. Of what vileness do you accuse me?"  
  
Celemedril ignored this outburst, pacing the hall in his turmoil. "I leave my sister healthy, if not altogether happy, in your care, my lord." He faced Celeborn. "But Elrohir, one who spurned her and broke her heart, arrives. When he does, a mysterious accident befalls Eloessa and takes her life."  
  
Both Elrohir and Elladan would have spoken but Lord Celeborn silenced them with a sharp gesture. He would suffer this display to continue to its conclusion.  
  
"I return, through torture and battle, to find my sister dead." Celemedril cried. "And I find her son in the possession of one with no relation to him by blood or proper wedding vow. The child should have gone to the care of our foster parents until the return of his real family."  
  
Elrohir faced his accuser with little expression. Celemedril advanced, enunciating each word. "I want the boy. Now," he demanded.  
  
"You will meet him when your emotions are calmer and your mind clearer. Not before." Elrohir said in a cool voice. "I claim him as my son and the right of a father over him. And that you may not gainsay."  
  
"You will not have him!" Celemedril roared.  
  
But before he could do or say anything more, a woman's quiet voice interrupted.  
  
"My lord, I have come as you ordered."  
  
The Gray Maiden  
  
Elrohir turned to face the newcomer, who hesitated on the threshold. Her figure was slight and her face pale. The gray veil covering her hair signified that she assisted the healers in their duties. He did not recognize her but realized that she held in her arms a child. It was Dunthalion.  
  
Elrohir started towards the woman, who appeared quite young, a mere maiden. "What are you doing with my son? Is he ill?" He peered anxiously at Dunthalion.  
  
"No, my lord," she reassured him. "He is fine. He's a wonderful, happy baby." At Elrohir's challenging gaze she faltered. "I was told to bring him..." her voice trailed off and she directed an appealing gaze over Elrohir's shoulder. He turned to see who she looked to for help.  
  
It was his grandfather. Realization began a slow burn in the pit of his stomach. Before he could find the words to voice his suspicion, proof walked through the door.  
  
"Lord Celeborn," Haldir sounded quite harassed. "When possible, I would like to know when the task I am set is likely to risk my life." He'd barely finished speaking when Calmae pushed past him into the room. She rushed to Elrohir's side, words spilling out like stones poured from a jar.  
  
"That-that jumped up gatekeeper," she sputtered. "He laid hands on me!" Calmae pointed at an accusing finger at Haldir like Mandos pronouncing the Doom of the Noldor.  
  
Haldir made an outraged noise. "You threw a pan at my head, woman. Even with your aim, I could have been killed!"  
  
"He simply appeared demanding that I bring Dunthalion and come with him." Calmae complained to Elrohir. "I refused unless he explained himself, which he would not do. He said he had his orders. Just like the night Lady Eloessa died."  
  
Calmae's shoulders slumped. "While he kept me busy arguing, she slipped in and took the baby." Calmae looked at the young woman holding the child. "We have worked side by side at many a sickbed, Sindawen. I never thought you would betray me so."  
  
Sindawen, now named and accused, gave a minute shake of her head. She buried her face in the dark curls of the child nestled against her.  
  
"I think you will find that Mistress Sindawen is the not the author of this piece, Calmae. Nor Master Haldir, either, tempting as it is to believe in his iniquity." Elrohir's wintry expression made it clear the recent truce of the two men was near breaking. "No, it is my esteemed grandfather that plucked our strings as if we were instruments of his making."  
  
Elrohir advanced on Lord Celeborn's throne, rigid with barely controlled rage. "What did you hope to gain by this charade?"  
  
Celeborn sat and surveyed his grandson, unmoved by the challenge. "When in my realm you promised to obey me. Where is your duty?"  
  
"I swore an oath before Manwe himself to stand as father for this child and protect him from all harm." Elrohir answered fiercely. "I recognize no charge higher than that!"  
  
"You dishonor yourself and Lord Elrond with such self-indulgent nonsense." Celeborn snapped. "No Eldar outside the Blessed Realm has the luxury of answering solely to the duty of husband and father." Now Celeborn stood, veteran and survivor of greater destruction than Elrohir could yet conceive. "Your behavior causes me to question where your ultimate loyalty lays, Elrohir. Elrond thought this might happen and his message has proved true. Return to your flet and consider carefully what you do next."  
  
Elrohir would have spoken but Celeborn turned away. "You are dismissed."  
  
Elladan grabbed his brother's shoulder. "Elrohir, you tread perilously close to disaster." He hissed in a low voice. "Let us go, now. Calmae will make sure the boy comes to no harm. She is like a badger with its cub." He pulled Elrohir toward the door by main force. "Come on!"  
  
Calmae said quickly, "I will not leave him, I promise." Elrohir, stunned at Celeborn's revelation about his father, nodded jerkily and left the room. Elladan cast a grateful glance at Calmae, a worried one at his silent grandfather, and then hurried after his twin.  
  
Celemedril, silent since the healer had entered with the child and throughout the ensuing battle of wills, now inquired. "Lord Celeborn, what do you intend"  
  
Celeborn's head was bent and he did not answer for a long moment. At last, he looked up. "What do I intend? I mean to leave and allow you to get acquainted with your nephew." A faint smile appeared. "I will let Mistress Sindawen tutor you in the gentle art of infant care."  
  
Celeborn made to depart, gathering Haldir up in his wake. He beckoned to Calmae. She did not immediately come, clearly torn between guarding her charge and obeying.  
  
"Do not allow yourself to be caught between two loyalties again, Calmae," Celeborn warned, not unkindly. "Believe that I want what is best, for us all." He held her gaze until she dropped her eyes, acknowledging his point. "But I will not put you to the test. You may stay, but do not interfere. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Calmae nodded, relieved not to have to choose. This time.  
  
Neither of the two remaining men spoke or made any move toward Sindawen. Uncertain, she glanced back and forth between them. One was tall and broad, an obvious warrior. He unnerved her a little. The other was slender, almost thin, as if he had been ill. He kept his face averted so she could not see him clearly, but he seemed to bear some scars he did not want others to see. As usual, she thought wryly, it was the wounded one who made her feel the most at ease.  
  
The big warrior had been shouting when she came in and anger still seemed to cling to him, but he said nothing.  
  
In desperation, Sindawen looked to Calmae for help. Calmae gazed consideringly at her fellow healer for a moment. Then she nodded slightly in Eomeril's direction.  
  
Sindawen smiled and moved toward Eomeril. "My lord? This is your nephew. His name is Dunthalion." Obeying an instinct she had learned as a healer to trust, she made to hand the baby to Eomeril. Startled, he turned away, trying to avoid the burden, but she was insistent.  
  
"No, he can not see me like this." Eomeril protested. "He will have nightmares."  
  
"The babe does not care what you look like," Sindawen said. Attuned to such things now, he heard compassion underlying her healer's briskness, but he detected no pity or revulsion.  
  
Reluctant but intrigued, he accepted the bundle she presented him. The child was solid and firm in his hands. He felt a small hand grasp his fingers with astonishing strength. He suddenly remembered Eloessa doing the same thing when she was very young.  
  
Then the child in his arms laughed. It was like the sun piercing the clouds after the first storm of winter. It brought with it the hope of spring, rebirth and renewal. Sindawen thought she saw the hint of a smile on the ruined face.  
  
Gingerly, Eomeril traced the baby's face with his fingers revealing Dunthalion had his sister's fine straight nose and delicate arched eyebrows.  
  
Sindawen helped him adjust the child, guiding his arms so he had a firm grasp on the wriggling babe. "He is a fine, strong boy," she told him, her voice low and sweet. Eomeril imagined it must be soothing to the ill and wounded.  
  
Watching them, Celemedril felt a faint stirring of hope that his brother might yet recover from his black despair. He watched as Eomeril grasped Dunthalion a little tighter, as if he feared he would drop him. Celemedril observed his brother with the healer and Dunthalion for several more minutes, then seemed to come to a decision.  
  
He silently crossed to where Calmae waited. He held out his arm to her. "Come, Calmae, let us leave them alone for a time." She looked at him questioningly. "We will go no further than the antechamber outside the hall. You may tell me all that happened to Eloessa after I left. There is much that I wish to know." Calmae, nodding, allowed her former charge to escort her from the hall.  
  
As he left, Celemedril turned one more look on those that remained. He would meet his nephew later. For now the child worked a unique magic on his brother. Celemedril did not begrudge him what happiness he could find.  
  
"I will not hurt him?" Eomeril asked anxiously. The child squirmed in his arms, a ball of energy and vitality that touched a deep chord within the wounded Elf.  
  
He could hear the smile in her voice when she answered. He thought again that it was a pleasant voice, the hint of laughter like the sound of chimes in the wind. He wondered what she looked like.  
  
"No, my lord," she assured him, "You will not hurt him. Babies have their own spells of protection to save them from clumsy parents." It took him a moment to realize that she was teasing him. The laugh escaped him before he could hold it back. By the Valar, it felt good to laugh.  
  
"Mistress Sindawen," He surprised himself by speaking. "May I touch your face?" He asked hesitantly, shyly. It was new, this shyness. He had been confident with the elf maidens. He had known the charms he wielded, but that had been before...Now all he would have from them was pity and that was unacceptable.  
  
But this one, somehow she was different.  
  
Instead of answering, she took his hand. She gently guided it to her own face, laying it there lightly. With Dunthalion happily babbling and reaching up to them, Eomeril explored her face for the first time.  
  
Her skin was soft and smooth. She would be fair he decided, with a straight proud nose. He traced from the arch of her eyebrows down the high cheekbones. So fair was she and small. His hand cupped her chin as he ran a hesitant finger across her lips. He heard her quick intake of breath but that did not stop him. Her mouth was soft and warm. The thought rose unbidden that they were kissable lips. For a moment he imagined kissing them, and that they kissed him back.  
  
He snatched his hand away as if burned. How could he think such things? No one would want him, ruined as he was.  
  
But then she did a remarkable thing. She reached out to him. He tried to turn away, to hide his face from her, but she would not allow it. Trapped with the child in his arms, he could not prevent it when Sindawen took his face in her hands. They were sure and strong, the hands of a healer.  
  
She ran her fingers over his scarred face. His skin warmed where she touched him and he could feel the healing in her hands. But it was not the mending of his flesh that he felt. No, something far deeper began to stir to life.  
  
He thought it just might be the burned-out husk that was his soul.  
  
The Choice of Elros  
  
Elrohir quickly descended the stairs from Celeborn's Hall and charged off at a rapid pace. Elladan raced to keep up, wondering where they headed as Elrohir ignored the path to his flet. His brother said nothing and Elladan chose not to break the silence.  
  
Not yet.  
  
The brothers passed through the city gates and into the forest beyond. The guard eyed them curiously but did not hinder their exit. Celeborn would soon know his orders had been disobeyed yet again. Elladan sighed and hurried after his twin.  
  
It was not long before he realized where they were going. He'd visited the quiet grove of mallorns with its lonely grass covered mound once before. Elrohir slowed when he reached the edge of the clearing. He gazed at the mound for a long moment before kneeling beside it. Thick summer grass carpeted the hillock. Elrohir ran his hand over it tenderly, as if through a woman's hair. He spoke in a low voice Elladan had to strain to hear.  
  
"Eloessa was far braver than I. She had the courage to declare the truth of her heart. She trusted me with that and I failed her. Fear warred with my love and conquered my will. In the end, I was granted a chance to redeem my heart and my honor." His next words were a whisper in the fading light. "This I did, though the price demanded was almost more than I could bear."  
  
Elrohir rose to his feet and gazed still at the mound. "I swore to accept Dunthalion as my own before ever I held him in my arms. Now I have fed him, bathed him, watched him grow. I walked under the stars to tell him of his mother and sang him to sleep with her token about his throat. I am his father. My oath makes it so."  
  
"But what of an older oath, brother?" Elladan's voice pierced his brother's reverie like a bright spear. "We stood on Caradthras together. By our blood and our mother's honor we sealed our vow to never rest while orcs fouled Middle Earth with their stench."  
  
Elrond's sons faced each other. "Our father sends this message to you, Elrohir." Elladan revealed at last. "Imladris is pressed by the forces of the Shadow as never before. Orcs are multiplying in the mountains, ranging far into Eriador. The Dunedain require our help. Father also reminds you of your oath. It is time to come home."  
  
Elrohir answered carefully. "I will return. As soon as Dunthalion is old enough to travel safely."  
  
"The journey becomes more dangerous all the time. Will you risk taking an infant or small child? It may be years before he is ready." Elladan said. "You are needed now."  
  
"Imladris will not fall while Elrond still dwells there." Elrohir insisted. "He knows I will come as soon as I can. And I will bring his grandson when I do."  
  
"You bind yourself to this half mortal child, but you do not know what his fate will be. Will he have the choice of the Peredhil? Or will he be mortal in truth?" Elladan moved to stand between his twin and the burial mound. "Why do you think Father does not wish you to stand as parent to Dunthalion? By your oath you may already have made the choice of Elros. He is not even a full year and the child has worked an evil fate, separating you from us in this way."  
  
Elladan searched his brother's face for some reaction but found nothing in the face so like his own. He continued, passionate to persuade. "Father believes your choice was made in the moment of your oath before Manwe. But I do not think so. You have no relationship to Dunthalion beyond affection. Not blood or marriage vow. Let his uncles take and raise him. If he had need he could call on you to fulfill your obligation as protector but he is unlikely to require it here in Lothlorien."  
  
"Let us return to Imladris." With no response, he urgently tried once more. "We can be home before the snows fall in Rivendell."  
  
Elrohir turned from his brother as he spoke. "Leave me. I wish to be alone."  
  
Stung, Elladan retorted, "No, I am not fin-"  
  
"You delivered your message like a dutiful son." Elrohir interrupted fiercely. "Now go!"  
  
Elladan glared, then turned on his heel and stalked away, leaving Elrohir alone in the grove. 


	5. The Counsel of Lord Elrond

The Counsel of Lord Elrond  
  
Eloessa's brothers appeared to have been alerted to the coming of Celeborn. Celemedril stood at attention, his face pale but composed. Eomeril had put his hood back up.  
  
Celeborn approached his foster sons with measured tread. He stopped only inches away. No one spoke for several moments.  
  
Then Celeborn said simply, "Eomeril," and waited.  
  
After a long moment Eomeril swept the hood back from his face, throwing his head up in defiance. Celemedril drew near to his brother in silent support.  
  
Eomeril sensed his foster father's gaze upon him but could not see the rage, cold as the grinding ice of the north, which glittered in the eyes of his lord.  
  
"The one who did this," Celeborn's voice hardened. "He is dead?"  
  
"By my own hand," Celemedril spoke for the first time. Eomeril made a small movement as if in remembered pain, then stilled.  
  
"Good." Celeborn said. He turned and walked to his carved wooden chair.  
  
"The one who gave the order still lives," Celemedril said. "But he will not escape my reckoning in the end."  
  
"It may be fated that he will meet his doom at your hands. But not today," Celeborn admonished as he sat. "The blessing of the Valar has brought you safe home. Yes, I say safe," he acknowledged Eomeril's scars with a look. "For while there is breath still in the body, there is a life to be lived with honor and courage. You both are needed here, now and for some time to come."  
  
Celeborn surveyed the four Elves in front of him. Even in the twilight of the Elves in Middle Earth, each of them was worth many dozens of the knights of Men, in strength, skill and valor. In his grandsons, ran the blood of the highest Eldar in Middle Earth and the noblest Houses of Men. Celeborn had long known their fortunes were intertwined with the very fate of Middle Earth.  
  
His fosterlings, sons of one born in the noontide of Valinor itself, were mighty indeed. But only now were the forces that drove their destinies beginning to coalesce about them. The sons of Gilrond would need an anchor in the coming storm.  
  
Celeborn might be able to provide it, but the cost would be high-for them all.  
  
For some time, Celeborn sat unmoving, observing the songbirds dive and soar outside his window. His four waiting listeners looked at each other and shifted their feet, suddenly feeling much younger than they were.  
  
Still watching the aerial display amongst the leaves of Lorien, Celeborn mused, "I remember when the four of you were boys and well nigh inseparable, especially before your sisters were born."  
  
"You were the object of every maiden's pursuit," Celeborn said dryly. "The delight of your weapons masters and the bane of the gate warden's existence."  
  
Memories whispered in the spaces between Celeborn's words. In the sun dappled hall, shades of the children they had once been called out in laughter to one another.  
  
"When my captain brought you all before me to explain your latest escapade, I knew already the part that each of you would have played." Now the Lord of Lothlorien turned to face his audience, singling each one out as he spoke. "The original idea likely formed in Elladan's fertile mind. Celemedril was the strategist. Elrohir and Eomeril carried out the deed, usually with flawless precision."  
  
Elladan shared a rueful look with his brother, whose slightly hunched posture recalled many of those blistering interviews with their grandfather.  
  
"I remind you now of your friendship, your honor, and the bond you once shared." Celeborn's voice turned solemn. "For now is the time when it and you will be tested."  
  
He looked at them all. "The status of Eloessa's son must be discussed." Celeborn's words were like a splash of cold water.  
  
"I don't understand," Celemedril protested. "Eomeril and I are his uncles. His only family. What is there to discuss?"  
  
Elrohir spoke for the first time. "Much has happened since last we met." Celemedril turned a cold stare on him, but Elrohir continued. "I heard of the attack in the mountains and came to Lothlorien to find out what happened."  
  
"When I arrived, Eloessa had recovered but things ," Elrohir shared an oblique look with Celeborn. "Still, I knew that I loved her and wanted to spend our lives together. To my eternal grief, I did not find Eloessa until after her accident. We declared our love for one another and for a short time it appeared she would overcome her injuries. I agreed to accept her child as my own."  
  
"In the end, delivering the baby took all her strength. She died in my arms. Her body spent, she passed to the Halls of Mandos, where, the Valar willing, we will meet again in the Undying Lands." Elrohir spoke with little expression, but Elladan could feel the suppressed grief and tension coursing in his brother's body. He wondered how much longer it could be contained.  
  
Celemedril shook his head in confusion at this abbreviated version of events, but it was Eomeril that spoke.  
  
"He is not telling the truth. Or at least not all he knows." Eomeril said. "For every thing he told there are three left unsaid."  
  
Stung by the accusation, Elrohir responded. "To unleash a flood on the ill prepared would be no favor. You will know what is needful but not all at once. Especially not in the first flush of your grief, when minds are clouded and words are hot."  
  
Eomeril faced his old friend squarely. Elrohir steeled himself not to look away. He sensed that Eomeril would know if he did. Slowly, Eomeril approached. The Elf might be blind but Elrohir felt a vague threat nonetheless.  
  
"Did you love Eloessa in Rivendell when you refused her suit?" Eomeril asked.  
  
Elrohir blanched. He had not expected this. "Yes," he answered.  
  
Eomeril came closer. "Did you love Eloessa when you let her leave Rivendell, sending her into a nightmare of torment and death?" He received no immediate response. "Did you love her then?" he demanded.  
  
"Yes. I loved her." Elrohir said at last.  
  
Another step nearer. "And when you held her, dying, in your arms." Eomeril said in a soft voice. "Tell me, friend. Did you love my sister then?"  
  
"Yes." Elrohir breathed the word, eyes wide and blind with pain.  
  
"You did not love her enough."  
  
Elrohir heard the words but he never saw the fist aimed at him.  
  
Eomeril's powerful blow knocked Elrohir to the floor. "It was not enough." Eomeril said again, standing over the fallen Elf.  
  
Celemedril held his brother back, but Eomeril shook him off. "I am finished."  
  
Elladan ran to his twin, who was already beginning to revive. Helping his brother sit up, he cried out. "Is this what your suffering taught you? To be cruel? To spread your pain to others like a disease?"  
  
Elrohir struggled to his feet, and stood, swaying a little. Elladan supported him, saying, "If he had not found Eloessa in time, if he had not risked his life and his very soul to save her, you would not even have a nephew to remember her by. Her essence would be gone from Middle Earth in truth."  
  
Elrohir, the left side of his face already beginning to bruise, said thickly. "I do not seek their gratitude, Elladan. We have all lost more than can ever be regained. At least I have Eloessa's son." Elladan shot his brother a look, but he did not notice.  
  
Celemedril, growing angry in his turn, challenged the sons of Elrond. "And where is my nephew? I have not even heard you speak his name."  
  
A swelling rage fueled by fresh grief swallowed his reason. "Do you seek to hide him from us, his rightful guardians? Or has he, too, met with an accident?"  
  
Elrohir straightened and cried out. "The boy is alive and well in my keeping. Of what vileness do you accuse me?"  
  
Celemedril ignored this outburst, pacing the hall in his turmoil. "I leave my sister healthy, if not altogether happy, in your care, my lord." He faced Celeborn. "But Elrohir, one who spurned her and broke her heart, arrives. When he does, a mysterious accident befalls Eloessa and takes her life."  
  
Both Elrohir and Elladan would have spoken but Lord Celeborn silenced them with a sharp gesture. He would suffer this display to continue to its conclusion.  
  
"I return, through torture and battle, to find my sister dead." Celemedril cried. "And I find her son in the possession of one with no relation to him by blood or proper wedding vow. The child should have gone to the care of our foster parents until the return of his real family."  
  
Elrohir faced his accuser with little expression. Celemedril advanced, enunciating each word. "I want the boy. Now," he demanded.  
  
"You will meet him when your emotions are calmer and your mind clearer. Not before." Elrohir said in a cool voice. "I claim him as my son and the right of a father over him. And that you may not gainsay."  
  
"You will not have him!" Celemedril roared.  
  
But before he could do or say anything more, a woman's quiet voice interrupted.  
  
"My lord, I have come as you ordered." 


	6. The Gray Maiden

The Gray Maiden  
  
Elrohir turned to face the newcomer, who hesitated on the threshold. Her figure was slight and her face pale. The gray veil covering her hair signified that she assisted the healers in their duties. He did not recognize her but realized that she held in her arms a child. It was Dunthalion.  
  
Elrohir started towards the woman, who appeared quite young, a mere maiden. "What are you doing with my son? Is he ill?" He peered anxiously at Dunthalion.  
  
"No, my lord," she reassured him. "He is fine. He's a wonderful, happy baby." At Elrohir's challenging gaze she faltered. "I was told to bring him..." her voice trailed off and she directed an appealing gaze over Elrohir's shoulder. He turned to see who she looked to for help.  
  
It was his grandfather. Realization began a slow burn in the pit of his stomach. Before he could find the words to voice his suspicion, proof walked through the door.  
  
"Lord Celeborn," Haldir sounded quite harassed. "When possible, I would like to know when the task I am set is likely to risk my life." He'd barely finished speaking when Calmae pushed past him into the room. She rushed to Elrohir's side, words spilling out like stones poured from a jar.  
  
"That-that jumped up gatekeeper," she sputtered. "He laid hands on me!" Calmae pointed at an accusing finger at Haldir like Mandos pronouncing the Doom of the Noldor.  
  
Haldir made an outraged noise. "You threw a pan at my head, woman. Even with your aim, I could have been killed!"  
  
"He simply appeared demanding that I bring Dunthalion and come with him." Calmae complained to Elrohir. "I refused unless he explained himself, which he would not do. He said he had his orders. Just like the night Lady Eloessa died."  
  
Calmae's shoulders slumped. "While he kept me busy arguing, she slipped in and took the baby." Calmae looked at the young woman holding the child. "We have worked side by side at many a sickbed, Sindawen. I never thought you would betray me so."  
  
Sindawen, now named and accused, gave a minute shake of her head. She buried her face in the dark curls of the child nestled against her.  
  
"I think you will find that Mistress Sindawen is the not the author of this piece, Calmae. Nor Master Haldir, either, tempting as it is to believe in his iniquity." Elrohir's wintry expression made it clear the recent truce of the two men was near breaking. "No, it is my esteemed grandfather that plucked our strings as if we were instruments of his making."  
  
Elrohir advanced on Lord Celeborn's throne, rigid with barely controlled rage. "What did you hope to gain by this charade?"  
  
Celeborn sat and surveyed his grandson, unmoved by the challenge. "When in my realm you promised to obey me. Where is your duty?"  
  
"I swore an oath before Manwe himself to stand as father for this child and protect him from all harm." Elrohir answered fiercely. "I recognize no charge higher than that!"  
  
"You dishonor yourself and Lord Elrond with such self-indulgent nonsense." Celeborn snapped. "No Eldar outside the Blessed Realm has the luxury of answering solely to the duty of husband and father." Now Celeborn stood, veteran and survivor of greater destruction than Elrohir could yet conceive. "Your behavior causes me to question where your ultimate loyalty lays, Elrohir. Elrond thought this might happen and his message has proved true. Return to your flet and consider carefully what you do next."  
  
Elrohir would have spoken but Celeborn turned away. "You are dismissed."  
  
Elladan grabbed his brother's shoulder. "Elrohir, you tread perilously close to disaster." He hissed in a low voice. "Let us go, now. Calmae will make sure the boy comes to no harm. She is like a badger with its cub." He pulled Elrohir toward the door by main force. "Come on!"  
  
Calmae said quickly, "I will not leave him, I promise." Elrohir, stunned at Celeborn's revelation about his father, nodded jerkily and left the room. Elladan cast a grateful glance at Calmae, a worried one at his silent grandfather, and then hurried after his twin.  
  
Celemedril, silent since the healer had entered with the child and throughout the ensuing battle of wills, now inquired. "Lord Celeborn, what do you intend?"  
  
Celeborn's head was bent and he did not answer for a long moment. At last, he looked up. "What do I intend? I mean to leave and allow you to get acquainted with your nephew." A faint smile appeared. "I will let Mistress Sindawen tutor you in the gentle art of infant care."  
  
Celeborn made to depart, gathering Haldir up in his wake. He beckoned to Calmae. She did not immediately come, clearly torn between guarding her charge and obeying.  
  
"Do not allow yourself to be caught between two loyalties again, Calmae," Celeborn warned, not unkindly. "Believe that I want what is best, for us all." He held her gaze until she dropped her eyes, acknowledging his point. "But I will not put you to the test. You may stay, but do not interfere. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Calmae nodded, relieved not to have to choose. This time.  
  
Neither of the two remaining men spoke or made any move toward Sindawen. Uncertain, she glanced back and forth between them. One was tall and broad, an obvious warrior. He unnerved her a little. The other was slender, almost thin, as if he had been ill. He kept his face averted so she could not see him clearly, but he seemed to bear some scars he did not want others to see. As usual, she thought wryly, it was the wounded one who made her feel the most at ease.  
  
The big warrior had been shouting when she came in and anger still seemed to cling to him, but he said nothing.  
  
In desperation, Sindawen looked to Calmae for help. Calmae gazed consideringly at her fellow healer for a moment. Then she nodded slightly in Eomeril's direction.  
  
Sindawen smiled and moved toward Eomeril. "My lord? This is your nephew. His name is Dunthalion." Obeying an instinct she had learned as a healer to trust, she made to hand the baby to Eomeril. Startled, he turned away, trying to avoid the burden, but she was insistent.  
  
"No, he can not see me like this." Eomeril protested. "He will have nightmares."  
  
"The babe does not care what you look like," Sindawen said. Attuned to such things now, he heard compassion underlying her healer's briskness, but he detected no pity or revulsion.  
  
Reluctant but intrigued, he accepted the bundle she presented him. The child was solid and firm in his hands. He felt a small hand grasp his fingers with astonishing strength. He suddenly remembered Eloessa doing the same thing when she was very young.  
  
Then the child in his arms laughed. It was like the sun piercing the clouds after the first storm of winter. It brought with it the hope of spring, rebirth and renewal. Sindawen thought she saw the hint of a smile on the ruined face.  
  
Gingerly, Eomeril traced the baby's face with his fingers revealing Dunthalion had his sister's fine straight nose and delicate arched eyebrows.  
  
Sindawen helped him adjust the child, guiding his arms so he had a firm grasp on the wriggling babe. "He is a fine, strong boy," she told him, her voice low and sweet. Eomeril imagined it must be soothing to the ill and wounded.  
  
Watching them, Celemedril felt a faint stirring of hope that his brother might yet recover from his black despair. He watched as Eomeril grasped Dunthalion a little tighter, as if he feared he would drop him. Celemedril observed his brother with the healer and Dunthalion for several more minutes, then seemed to come to a decision.  
  
He silently crossed to where Calmae waited. He held out his arm to her. "Come, Calmae, let us leave them alone for a time." She looked at him questioningly. "We will go no further than the antechamber outside the hall. You may tell me all that happened to Eloessa after I left. There is much that I wish to know." Calmae, nodding, allowed her former charge to escort her from the hall.  
  
As he left, Celemedril turned one more look on those that remained. He would meet his nephew later. For now the child worked a unique magic on his brother. Celemedril did not begrudge him what happiness he could find.  
  
"I will not hurt him?" Eomeril asked anxiously. The child squirmed in his arms, a ball of energy and vitality that touched a deep chord within the wounded Elf.  
  
He could hear the smile in her voice when she answered. He thought again that it was a pleasant voice, the hint of laughter like the sound of chimes in the wind. He wondered what she looked like.  
  
"No, my lord," she assured him, "You will not hurt him. Babies have their own spells of protection to save them from clumsy parents." It took him a moment to realize that she was teasing him. The laugh escaped him before he could hold it back. By the Valar, it felt good to laugh.  
  
"Mistress Sindawen," He surprised himself by speaking. "May I touch your face?" He asked hesitantly, shyly. It was new, this shyness. He had been confident with the elf maidens. He had known the charms he wielded, but that had been before...Now all he would have from them was pity and that was unacceptable.  
  
But this one, somehow she was different.  
  
Instead of answering, she took his hand. She gently guided it to her own face, laying it there lightly. With Dunthalion happily babbling and reaching up to them, Eomeril explored her face for the first time.  
  
Her skin was soft and smooth. She would be fair he decided, with a straight proud nose. He traced from the arch of her eyebrows down the high cheekbones. So fair was she and small. His hand cupped her chin as he ran a hesitant finger across her lips. He heard her quick intake of breath but that did not stop him. Her mouth was soft and warm. The thought rose unbidden that they were kissable lips. For a moment he imagined kissing them, and that they kissed him back.  
  
He snatched his hand away as if burned. How could he think such things? No one would want him, ruined as he was.  
  
But then she did a remarkable thing. She reached out to him. He tried to turn away, to hide his face from her, but she would not allow it. Trapped with the child in his arms, he could not prevent it when Sindawen took his face in her hands. They were sure and strong, the hands of a healer.  
  
She ran her fingers over his scarred face. His skin warmed where she touched him and he could feel the healing in her hands. But it was not the mending of his flesh that he felt. No, something far deeper began to stir to life.  
  
He thought it just might be the burned-out husk that was his soul. 


End file.
